Stay Afloat
by ThatOneGoodWriter
Summary: Their relationship was wrong. All kinds of wrong. Clace. One-shot.


_Little children, headache; big children, heartache._

Italian Proverb

On the day Clarissa's sister died, everything was muddled.

It was like having a really good dream. You're floating around blissfully, until something wakes you up. And while you're rubbing your eyes frantically, you try to remember what you had just conjured in your head, but you can't. So you sigh and you sulk and the rest of your day feels like walking around with boulders hanging off your already crumbling back.

That's how it was for Clarissa.

She was a zombie, devoid of emotion and lifeless.

 **x**

Aline was cremated.

It was one of her final requests.

 **x**

Clarissa would love to say that her sister left a long letter, filled with her reasons and her pains and her joys, but she hadn't. On a simple sticky note, Aline had written, in her usual cursive handwriting:

 _Fuck everyone. Fuck God. I'm going somewhere you haven't been yet._

And at the corner of the note, she had scrawled lazily, like an afterthought:

 _I love you Clarissa. Before anyone else._

 **x**

Sometimes, Clarissa hated her sister.

She hated the way Aline's hair was sleek and brown and hers was wild and auburn. Aline was taller. She had long legs and tan skin. Clarissa was left with her mother's genes, pale skin littered with bright freckles.

Clarissa was shy and quiet. She hated eye contact and conversations and meetings.

Aline was the opposite. She enjoyed flaunting her body and making boys stare after her and letting everyone know she was available.

In a lot of ways, Clarissa was jealous of her. Who wouldn't be?

 **x**

When their dad abused their mother, it was Aline who tugged Clarissa into her own bed, tucking her under her sheets. She would hold her close, murmuring soft words and covering her ears to make sure she didn't hear her mother's screams.

Clarissa would smile and she'd stuff her face in the cloth of Aline's tanktop. And everything was normal.

For just a little while.

 **x**

 _"Do you know what to do?" Aline asked, applying a thick layer of violet lipstick on her mouth._

 _Clarissa huffed softly. "Of course, I do, 'Line! I'm not stupid."_

 _Aline laughed, turning around to face her. She looked beautiful with her brown hair down and her eyelids covered with reckless hues. She was wearing a very short dress. Blue with ruffles. It reached her hips and invited the stares of others. "You're not stupid at all, Rissa." She brought her index finger to her lips in a quiet motion. "What'll you tell mom and dad if they come in?"_

 _Clarissa looked annoyed. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll tell them that you're sick. You can't leave bed. You need to be left alone."_

 _Aline smirked. "And if they insist?"_

 _"Then I'll make a fuss."_

 _"Good girl." Aline leaned over the bed to her younger sister. She kissed her tenderly on the forehead. Then she approached the small window near her closet and she unlocked the latches. Momentarily, she glanced at Clarissa and whispered, "How many freckles do you think you have?"_

 _Clarissa grinned, ear to ear. She was so small and innocent. She answered with certainty, "As many as the stars."_

 **x**

Then Aline would show up the next morning, fumbling through the window and scaring Clarissa. She would be tipsy, stumbling on the carpet and eventually collapsing on her mattress. The make up would be smeared on her face and her breath reeked of something sour.

Still, Clarissa thought she looked lovely.

She would remove Aline's shoes from her feet and pull the blanket over her body. She'd leave a cup of water next to her and one of those pills she usually saw her take when she wasn't feeling good.

Then she'd lie to her mom and dad.

"Aline's sick. She said she'll be up in a few hours."

 **x**

Clarissa never knew the extent of her mother and father's relationship.

Aline kept that away from her.

 **x**

For all the time Aline was alive, Clarissa thought she was happy. She couldn't be anything but that.

So, when she committed suicide on October 15th, a week before Clarissa's birthday, Clarissa realized just how sad her older sister was.

Apparently, from what the officials had informed them, Aline had driven off of a bridge, slamming into jagged rocks and ultimately dying on impact.

 **x**

Aline's ashes were with her boyfriend.

His name was Jace Herondale.

Clarissa had never met him before.

 **x**

After Aline died, Clarissa never called her dad 'dad'. She called him by his first name, Valentine.

She never called her mom 'mom' either. She called her by her first name, Jocelyn.

They didn't deserve terms of endearment.

 **x**

Valentine had come up to her a few days after Aline's funeral. He was wearing a black suit and dark pants. His hair was gelled back, the dark strands shiny and sticky.

Clarissa was in her room. She was holding Aline's note in her hand.

"Clary, my dear." He began, his deep voice creating a small echo. She didn't look up at him. She didn't give him any indication that she was listening. "Since you're unable to keep Aline's ashes, we're going to hand them over temporarily to a friend of hers." He paused, clearing his throat. "Apparently, he was Aline's boyfriend. He says you're welcome to take the urn whenever you'd like."

Clarissa didn't respond. She buried her head into her pillow. And she cried.

 **x**

It was two in the morning. Three years after the death of her sister, Clarissa finally made contact with Jace Herondale. She dialed the number she was given when she was sixteen. She wondered if he would be the one to pick up. So much time had passed, he might've changed his cell.

She waited.

 **x**

Someone answered. It was guy, who sounded wide awake despite the late hour. "Hello?"

Clarissa swallowed. She twisted a lock of her hair with her finger. "Hi. Is this Jace?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. That's me. Can I ask who this is?" He sounded polite and confused.

"It's Clarissa." He was silent for nearly a minute. She was going to add that she was Aline's younger sister, except he had already figured it out.

"Is this about-"

"Yea. It is." Clarissa licked her bottom lip. "I know it might not be the right time, but-"

"No. No. It's fine. I've got the urn here." He released a breath. "Can you come over? I don't really have a ride right now."

She nodded even though he couldn't see her. "Yea. That's okay. Just...Um, give me your address."

He gave her the apartment location and she rushed to write the words and numbers down on some scrap college mail.

"Thank you."

He answered after a moment. "You're welcome."

 **x**

She stole Valentine's keys and drove to the apartment complex. Everything was dark and eerie and the streetlights were her only guide forward.

She felt a great yearning in her chest.

She just wanted to feel close to Aline again.

That was all.

 **x**

He looked nothing like she thought he would.

He swung the door open after she knocked twice and leaned his body lazily against the frame. His tawny hair was unruly, the strands gently falling over his forehead and neck. His skin was light and his eyes were a vivid gold. There were dark bags underneath his orbs, making him look a lot more stressed than he probably was.

The first thing he told her was, "You look nothing like her."

She ducked into his residence and mumbled, "I know."

 **x**

The place was surprisingly clean. Other than the beer bottles that were scattered on his tables and counters, everything seemed to be orderly. She stood near the couch, waiting for him.

He appeared a second later, throwing on a hoodie over his shirt. "Make yourself at home."

She awkwardly sat at the corner of the couch, resting her hands atop one another. "Thanks."

He observed her a little longer before saying, "I'll go grab the urn." Then his figure dipped into the hall and somewhere she couldn't see from where she was.

Her heart was beating fast. She pondered if Aline was with her, keeping her company.

 **x**

The urn was magnificent.

How could Aline's entire being fit into such a small container?

Without waiting for Jace to hand it to her, Clarissa reached forward and grabbed the urn. She hugged it close to her chest.

She sobbed like a baby.

 **x**

She lifted the top of the vase gingerly, her fat tears dripping down her cheeks. She made a sound in her throat before lowering her palm into the ashes.

Jace was silent behind her. His face had gone a pasty white. It was as if he didn't want to go near her.

She didn't blame him.

Clarissa lifted her knees to her head. She kept the urn beside her. She had waited such a long time to finally gather the courage to hold Aline's remains. Now, it was like she was achieving nothing. She couldn't feel anything. She didn't feel her older sister's spirit. Or her laugh. Or her flirty image. Or her gentle pecks.

"You're not gonna get an awakening." Jace said, his tone harsh and realistic. "I've kept that shit for years and its done nothing to me."

Clarissa's head snapped up. She raised her eyebrows angrily. "That's my sister you're talking about! Don't assume you know anything, you fucking asshole!" Her scream came out raspy and broken and she was reminded that she was in his apartment room and that he had the jurisdiction to kick her out.

He fired back at her just as hard. He was standing up now, a few feet in front of her, his hands fisted. "You think you knew her." He shook his head savagely. "You never did."

Clarissa wiped her cheeks with her sleeves. "What are you saying?"

He scowled, like she was stupid. "To you, she might've been an angel. To everyone else, she was just something to be used."

The urn almost fell from her grip.

 **x**

It was like her head was being slammed with a tiny pebbles. They didn't kill her, but they slowly took her strength away. She carefully dropped the urn on the living room table. She realized her fingers were trembling. Clarissa forced herself to look at him. He was staring at her, his lips pursed.

"I came to take her ashes." She was almost whispering. "I didn't come to argue with a stranger."

 **x**

He surprised her by apologizing. He didn't look like the type who said sorry very much. "Look." He raked a hand through his hair. He was avoiding her gaze. "It's been, I don't even fucking know, since I've even encountered anything that had to do with Aline. When you called, I just wanted to tell you it wasn't worth it."

"What's not worth it?" She had gathered her bag and was ready to leave.

"Nevermind. You can go."

She did, the urn feeling heavy in her palms.

 **x**

About a month after that visit, he called her.

She answered, not expecting him to be on the other end. "Hello?"

"It's me. Jace."

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you."

She scoffed. "I don't know even know you."

He sounded resigned. "I've gotta give you a few things. They're from 'Line."

And when he used her older sister's nickname, she knew he was serious. Her eyes glistened and she told him she'd be there in half an hour.

 **x**

The door to his apartment was unlocked, so she slipped inside, finding him sitting on the ground, surrounded by some papers and photographs.

He wasn't wearing a shirt. She could identify the tattoos on his chest clearly. She quickly peered away when he noticed her presence. "Can I see it?" He asked her.

She opened her mouth. "What?"

"The note she left. Can I see it?"

She immediately felt a protectiveness spread through her chest. "You haven't seen it before?"

He shrugged. "Everything was so hectic then. Nobody really bothers with the dead girl's boyfriend. "

She nodded, a little numb, and reached into her back pocket where she always kept the note. She handed it to him.

He studied it. She peered at him curiously. He gave it back to her briskly. "What's wrong?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.

"Nothing." He patted to a spot next to him. "Sit down."

 **x**

"Aline and I used to go to a shit ton of parties. And sometimes, we didn't even know the people throwing them." He told her, leaning back on the surface of the sofa behind him. "I guess while we were there, we took some photos." He offered a few prints to her.

The first picture was kind of hazy. Aline was on the back of Jace, a drunken grin on her face. She was wearing one of her gray sweaters that she was really fond of. Her hair was down, framing her cheeks. Jace was beneath her. He looked happier back then.

The second picture was a nude of Aline. Clarissa looked to Jace for an explanation. Astonishingly, he smiled slightly, almost like he was fighting it. "Don't worry. I took that myself."

She hummed quietly. "Do you miss her?"

"Yea."

"How much?" She pestered, not knowing why.

"More than I can say."

Her face crumbled. "Me too."

 **x**

He gave her all he had.

She thanked him.

They were connected, somehow and someway.

 **x**

They met again after that.

At a coffee shop.

And they talked.

And it was normal.

But it felt entirely wrong.

 **x**

She went to his apartment frequently. They'd watch television together. Often, they'd even bring up Aline and they'd have conversations about her teasing ways and her kind nature.

They never got too close.

 **x**

One day, they were in his apartment. She was cooking something in the kitchen and he was sitting on one of the stools in front of the counter, glancing at her curiously. "Do you know what Aline used to ask me?" She started, her back to him.

He looked up from his phone. "What?"

Clarissa sounded sad. "She used to kiss me on the forehead and she'd ask me this stupid question."

Jace's shoulders grew rigid. "How many freckles do you think you have?" He rose to his feet and unknowingly stopped when he was in just a foot away from her.

Clarissa whirled around. "How did you know?"

"She used to tell me. She always talked about you."

Clarissa shook her head repeatedly, forgetting one of her pans and covering her face with her hands. "Stop lying."

Jace's eyes softened. "I'm not lying. She did, I swear. She told me she had a sister that was going to take the world by storm."

She sank to her knees. She struggled to breath. Her cries were raw, as if her sister had passed only hours before. She managed to gasp out, "I'm nothing. I'm nothing."

"No, fucking way. No way." Jace gently pulled her arms from her face. She gazed at him, afraid and bare. "Aline was right. You're here and you're strong and you shouldn't give a shit about anything else."

He embraced her and she reveled in his warmth and his scent of cologne. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and sniffled.

Then she realized what she was doing.

And she jerked away from him.

And she left the apartment.

 **x**

He texted her. She didn't answer.

He called. She didn't answer.

And finally, he knocked on her front door. She couldn't deny him then.

 **x**

"It was wrong." She said weakly, pacing around in her room.

"What are you talking about? I like you, Clarissa." He was sitting on the edge of her mattress, where Aline used to linger before sneaking out of the house.

"I-I don't feel the same."

He laughed a little. "You do. I know you do."

 **x**

She avoided him.

She tried to.

But everywhere she went, she imagined his handsome face and his lean figure and his imploring eyes and his long hair.

 **x**

The last time she went to church was when she was about ten.

This was her second time. The benches were empty and the sun cast its rays on the dust covered bibles and religious scriptures.

She bent to her knees and placed the urn beside her. She spoke to the sky:

 _I miss you 'Line. I miss your kisses. And I miss the way you used to trust me. I miss sleeping with you. I need something. Anything from you. I need to know I'm not alone. I, I like Jace. A lot. More than I should. And it feels, it feels like I'm betraying you. I don't want that. I love you. I love you. I love you._

 **x**

On October 15th, the day Aline had passed, Jace kissed her.

They were outside of her house, in the backyard. Clarissa was showing him the window that Aline used to leap and climb out of. "Fuck," he had cursed, his eyes a little bloodshot. He was a hard guy, but he had a big heart.

"It's okay." Clarissa had reassured him. "We all miss her."

And he had leaned into her, taking her waist with his skillful hands. She was too shocked to move away. His breath mingled with hers and she watched the movement of his dark lashes, wishing she could let him know how she felt. And then his hot mouth was on hers and he was kissing her. Nipping her tongue and biting her bottom lip playfully.

And she was lost.

 **x**

He was running the tips of his fingers through her hair. She leaned back against his chest and breathed in slowly. "I don't get it." She began.

"Get what?" He brought his face to her neck, pressing a wet kiss on her skin. She shivered involuntarily.

"How are we even together?"

He chuckled, his chest rumbling with hers. "Because I was finally able to count the freckles you have."

 **x**

 _Suicide is not a joke. There are people out there who love you. Keep going. Keep sailing your ship._

 _Love you guys. Wrote this for oesteffel. She deserves this. Hope it's good enough._


End file.
